Restful sleep just wasn't going to come this night - and it wasn't just the weather. Dreams, dark and disturbing, linger in the back of the mind, almost forgotten, but not quite. Their unquiet spirits fight to come to the surface, but cannot break the barrier of the consciousness. Dark forms, dead things, with an unnatural glow, a sense of a loss of control, and madness. Corruption and ancient powers, alien to mankind - things that seem normal on the surface, but are wrong, so very wrong, underneath.

Rising, seeking solace in television, but nothing is found there but inane info-mercials, selling some snake oil or pyramid scheme, designed to steal the dreams and money of the weak. A glass of water, perhaps, can chase away the troubles in the back of the mind. Walking, as if still asleep, outside to the patio, the desire for air perhaps less stagnant.

A breeze is heard in the distance, stirring the leaves of a might oak, but no release from the weather is felt. The storm approaches from the west, with the tingle of ozone being added to the atmosphere, and an unnatural greenish glow seen in the clouds. That glow is somehow familiar - and disturbing. To the east, it is still clear, and stars can be seen - the only thing that seems t provide any comfort. There, low and near the horizon, Mars, ancient god of war.

It is then that blackness comes, but not the blackness of night, not just the absence of light. Instead the blackness of a void, the absence of all - all sight, all sound, all feeling, all sense of time and space. It comes in an instant, and lasts for an eternity, before slowly fading.

"It is good - our saviour stirs," says a hunchbacked fool, dressed in motley. He turns to his companion, a taller, distinguished older man, whose face is both timeless and yet bears the toll of an unknown number of years.

"Yes Magpie, it is good. I hope you are right - I am severely weakened. To have cast so far, across so much, for this one, I just don't know."

"Trust Magpie, you must - has the counsel of Magpie ever been wrong? The choice was a good one, the risk worth the reward. This was your last best chance for regaining your power, and saving the land from being destroyed. Much rests on the shoulders of this young one, but the choice was good."

(Launches into Alaric's initial greeting as recorded in the complete dialogues)

Your body collapses to the ground, all life flowing out of it. There is no second chance for you, not now. As your spirit leaves your body you wonder what will happen now, to Alaric, to the land. Without your help, they are both surely doomed. The last fleeting heartbeats of life bring you regret, while in the distance, you can swear you hear laughter, hollow and mocking.

If you agree to give the three shards of the Crolna to Pelagon in the grotto below Kosha, the game will end with this narration.

(Continues from Pelagon's offer to take the Crolna from you as recorded in the complete dialogues)

Your will is not left in your body - and images of the future, of the results of your failure, come flooding in. You do not know how you are seeing what you see, as if the being that was Pelagon has hold of your mind, to torture you with the results of your failure.

You see Alaric, with trusty Magpie at his side, sitting in the throne room of LandKing Hall. Pelagon strides forward, a hideous creature you know as Omen by his side, a green glow coming from his hand. Alaric rises, as if to stop him, when a bolt of energy lances out. At the last momemt, Magpie dives in front of Alaric, his body reduced to ash. But even that last heroic effort does not save Alaric, for a second bolt flies from Pelagon's hand, consuming Alaric. Pelagon climbs Alaric's throne, pausing to brush away the ash that remains. "We have done well, master," says Omen, whose shape wavers, becoming that of Magpie. Pelagon smiles, his shape wavers, becoming that of Alaric, but with an evil green gleam in his eyes.

Sabinate looks up from his meditation, alarm in his eyes. Just as suddenly, his face dims, and tears begin streaming down his face.

A small child plays with a toy on a dusty street. She drops the toy, and beginning crying. Her mother picks her up, but is unable to stop the tears, unable to soothe the pain. For what is wrong with the child is something that will not go away, something that will only get worse as the years go by...

(Continues from Alaric's greeting after you use the corrupted Crolna on him as recorded in the complete dialogues)

What you have done is uncertain, but you know now that the being that was Pelagon has won, and, with your help, has defeated Alaric. You feel your will leave your body, and held by the being that was Pelagon, forced to see the consequences of your actions.

Sabinate looks up from his meditation, alarm in his eyes. Just as suddenly his face dims, and tears begin streaming down his face.

A small child plays with a toy on a dusty street. She drops the toy, and beginning crying. Her mother picks her up, but is unable to stop the tears, unable to soothe the pain. For what is wrong with the child is something that will not go away, something that will only get worse as the years go by...

(Continues from Alaric's greeting after you use the purified Crolna on him as recorded in the complete dialogues)

You awake, with a start, back in your bed. It is morning - was all that just a dream, or something more? You get up, look in the mirror, your face reflecting something in you that makes you think it was more than a dream.

You look out the window, the rain from last night gone. In a nearby tree, a magpie caws twice, as if trying to tell you something, and then flys away.